


The True Meaning Of Family

by afteriwake



Series: Where The Wild Ones Are [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), St Trinian's (2007 2009)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John invites Annabelle and Kelly to his home for dinner to discuss some family matters, and Sherlock learns more about this side of John's life than he expected, prompting his opinion on both Annabelle and Kelly to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aaronlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaronlisa/gifts).



> Written for my lovely friend **Aaronlisa** , who's had a bit of a rough week. Hope this cheers you up!

“My sister is coming over to dinner with her girlfriend,” John said one afternoon to Sherlock as Sherlock walked into their home.

“When did Harry get a girlfriend?” Sherlock asked, slightly confused.

“My _other_ sister,” John said.

Sherlock froze. He did not like Annabelle Fritton, nor did he like Kelly Jones, mostly for the fact that they ran St. Trinian’s and the school was comprised of nothing but hooligans and hellions, and it was because of them that Flash Harry was walking around a free man. “Tell me what day they are coming and I will make sure I’m not here,” he said.

John shook his head. “You’re still upset over that case, aren’t you?”

“I do not get upset over cases,” Sherlock said in a slight huff.

“You have always been a horrible liar,” John said with the ghost of a smile. “You took a larger criminal off the streets with the information Kelly gathered. Remember that.”

“I do remember that. I also remember having glue and feathers and garbage dumped all over me, and I remember being pelted with paintball gun pellets. I had hoped that my first experience with Miss Fritton and Miss Jones would be my last.”

“Well, they’ll be here in twenty minutes, so if you don’t want to deal with them I suggest you either go to your room or turn around and walk right back out the door,” he said with a shrug as he went back into the kitchen.

“I will not be run out of my home by them,” Sherlock said, straightening up slightly. “Please bring a plate of food to my room.”

“No.”

“No?”

“If you want dinner you can eat it with the rest of us,” John said as he turned off the oven.

“You’ll let me starve?” Sherlock asked, eyes wide.

John turned to look at him. “Kelly was right. You are a baby.”

“I am a grown man,” he replied.

“Who acts like a spoiled child when he doesn’t get his way,” John snapped back, pointing a wooden spoon at him. “I swear, if I didn’t owe you so much I’d move out.”

“So you only stay because you feel you owe me something,” Sherlock said quietly.

“You know what? I am not in the mood to have this conversation. Go ahead and go sulk in your room. I’ll make sure you don’t starve,” John said, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock looked at him strangely. This was unlike John. John had the patience of a saint. He tolerated his many quirks without much comment. Something was different tonight. It was an intriguing mystery, and Sherlock wanted to solve it. “Perhaps I will join you,” Sherlock said as he went into the kitchen.

John blinked slightly. “Oh. All right. They’ll be here soon, then. Let me get back to the dinner before I burn it.” And with that, he went back to cooking. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door, and he looked up. “Can you go get the door?”

Sherlock nodded, then walked to the door. He opened it and saw Annabelle standing there, umbrella over her head. Kelly was at a waiting cab, paying the driver. “Hello,” he said quietly.

“Oh! Hello, Sherlock,” Annabelle said with a smile that was tempered with a quizzical look in her eyes. “John is home, right?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Sherlock said as Kelly finished paying the driver and came up to them. Sherlock moved out of the way and the two women came into 221 Baker Street. They shook their umbrellas out outside and then leaned them against the door. “I had hoped not to see the two of you again,” he replied when they were done.

“Feeling’s mutual, mate,” Kelly said with a nod. “But John asked us to come here so we did.”

“He’s just up there,” Sherlock said as he pointed to the common room. “Follow me.” He led the way up the stairs and saw John was stirring a pot on the stove. “Your step-sister and her girlfriend are here.”

“Hello, John,” Annabelle said with a warm smile.

“Hello,” Kelly said with a smile of her own. The two women went into the kitchen and each gave him a hug. “Something smells delectable.”

“Well, it Annabelle’s favorite,” John said.

“I can’t wait,” Annabelle said. “I never get chicken like that anymore.” Then she paused. “Are you buttering me up for something, John?”

John shook his head. “I just thought it might be nice if you saw where I lived, that’s all.”

“Ah,” Annabelle said, shaking her head. “You’re still a rotten liar, I see.”

John sighed. “My mother is sick. She wants you to come visit her.”

“Why would she want to see me?” Annabelle asked, surprised. “I thought she despised me because of what my father did to her.”

“Perhaps she did, but…she’s dying,” John said with a slight shrug. “I think she wants to make amends.”

“If anyone should be making amends it’s my father, not her,” Annabelle said quietly. “But that’s never going to happen. Tell her I’ll see her before I go back to the school.”

“Really?” John said, his eyes wide.

Annabelle nodded. “It’s time we settle the past. If she wants to see me, if it will make her happy, I will go see her. I leave on Thursday so I can go see her tomorrow, if she wants.”

“I’ll call her as soon as I get done with the sauce,” John said, a relieved smile on his face. “Thank you so much, Annabelle.”

“You’re welcome, John,” she said with a grin of her own. “Oh! We brought a bottle of wine, like you said. Do you have something to open it with?”

He nodded. “Let me get something. Could you stir the sauce, Kelly?”

“Absolutely,” Kelly said with a nod. She took the spoon from John and began stirring the sauce as John went to fetch a corkscrew.

Sherlock watched in fascination. He had known John’s mother was sick, but he hadn’t known it was terminal. And whatever happened all those years ago had strained the relationship between his mother and Annabelle, who had to have been but a child then. And yet here they were, acting as a true family. Perhaps he had underestimated both his friend and his step-sister. Time would tell if he could get along with Annabelle and Kelly, though now he was willing to at least _try_.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock generally stayed quiet throughout the evening, listening to the conversation, and the others made little effort to draw him in. He learned more about John than he had thought possible as the three of them talked, showing a whole new side to the man. He had to admit, the more he heard about the type of brother John was to Annabelle, the more he thought it might have been nice if his own brother had been like John. His life might have been very different.

The bottle of wine was nearly gone when the stories began to wind down. He had not had any, leaving more for the others, and he was currently watching Annabelle sip her second glass. She turned to look at him. “I’m sorry we haven’t really included you, Sherlock. You must be bored to tears.”

“On the contrary, I’ve learned quite a bit about John tonight, and you as well. He hasn’t talked about you much since the case,” Sherlock said, picking up his glass of water.

“Probably because you hate her,” John said, though there was a slight smile on his face. “She got the best of you.”

“I don’t hate either of them,” Sherlock said, making a slight face. “I just don’t appreciate the reception I got upon paying them a visit.” He took a drink. “Thank you for the excellent replacement coat, however. It was of far better quality than the one I had had.”

“John said it was old,” Annabelle said with a slight shrug. “And I couldn’t find the exact one anyway. I figured if I couldn’t find an exact replacement I’d get you something better.”

“I appreciate it,” Sherlock said.

“I want to learn more about you,” Kelly said, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at Sherlock. “I know loads about John, and I know most of Annabelle’s history, but I know nothing about you except what I’ve heard professionally.”

Sherlock blinked slightly. “Surely John has talked about me.”

“He has, but not about your past, before he met you,” Annabelle said. “I think Kelly wants to know what makes you…you.”

“It’s a very boring story,” Sherlock said with a shrug.

“But I’d still like to know,” Kelly said. “Tell you what: you tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine. I’m sure you’ve wondered about me.”

Sherlock thought for a moment. He had learned a lot about Annabelle over the course of the evening, but Kelly was right: she was a mystery to him, and he was intrigued. Sharing his own history to learn hers would be a fair trade. “Very well. Where should I start?”

“Earliest memories,” John said. “You’ve never really talked about your childhood with me. I’m rather keen to know myself.”

Sherlock nodded. “I suppose you both know about Mycroft?” Kelly nodded but Annabelle shook her head. “I suppose I should explain about my brother first.” And with that he launched into the story of his childhood. An hour later he realized that all three of them were riveted. He still had more to talk about but he paused. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“You started solving murders at the age of eight?” Kelly asked, her jaw hanging slightly. “At eight I was just making trouble.”

“I don’t even remember what I was doing at eight,” John mused, finishing the last of the wine. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“I think I was eight when my father married Diane,” Annabelle said, making a face. “Worst stepmother of the lot.”

John reached over for her hand. “That was when you ran away, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, it was!” Annabelle said, her eyes widening. “You’d just gotten your first apartment, and I stole her credit card and ran away and begged to live with you.”

“If I’d known what an arse your father would be over the years I would have fought for custody,” John said, squeezing her hand slightly.

“You wouldn’t have been able to take care of the both of us and go to school,” Annabelle said, shaking her head. “And I never would have ended up at St. Trinian’s. That changed my life.” She turned to Kelly and smiled at her. “I wouldn’t give up that experience for the world.”

Kelly smiled back. “I wouldn’t either.”

“And you never would have met Sherlock, because you’d never have gone to the war or gotten injured or met your friend who introduced the two of you,” Annabelle pointed out.

“That is true,” John said quietly, tilting his head slightly. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Perhaps there is something to fate,” Sherlock mused.

“Maybe,” John said with a grin. “Now, I think Sherlock should get back to the story of his childhood. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Kelly and Annabelle chorused. Both women turned to Sherlock and gave him grins, and he found himself returning them ever so slightly before going back to his story.

It took him a few more hours but then he finished. Kelly looked at her watch. “It’s late, but if you want to hear my story I suppose I can go a night without sleep.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” Sherlock said, stifling a yawn. He had not slept much the night before and even though he needed little rest it was starting to catch up with him.

“We can come back for dinner,” Annabelle said with a nod. “We should get going to our hotel now anyway. It’s been a long day.” The four of them stood, and Annabelle gave John a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, both of which he returned. Then as Kelly did the same Annabelle came up to Sherlock and offered him her hand to shake. “No hard feelings?”

“As long as you don’t ask me to go back to your school,” he said, shaking her hand.

She laughed. “If you ever have to come back I’ll make sure no harm comes to you, I promise.” She let go of his hand and went to the coat rack.

Kelly came up and offered her hand. “Tomorrow you can interrogate me all you like.”

He shook her hand, giving her a faint smile. “I intend to.”

“I look forward to it,” she said, grinning back as well. “Good night, both of you. See you tomorrow.”

“Night, John. Night, Sherlock.” Annabelle said, waving at the two of them as Kelly went to get her coat on.

“Good night,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“Night,” John said, waving back. The two women left the room and John began picking up plates. After a moment Sherlock began collecting the glasses. “All in all I’d say that went well. Hopefully Annabelle is in a good mood after meeting with my mother tomorrow.”

“I hope she is as well,” Sherlock said as he took the glasses to the sink. “I think I shall be looking at all three of you in a new light after tomorrow night.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Annabelle makes an overture of friendship towards you,” John said with a slight chuckle. “And it might not be a bad thing, having the two of you be friendly.”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said with a nod. “I’ll take care of the dishes. You get some rest.”

“Are you sure?” John asked, surprised. “It won’t take long.”

Sherlock nodded. “I can take care of things.”

“All right. Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night,” he replied, inclining his head. John headed towards his room and Sherlock looked around. Yes, his opinions on the two women, and John as well, had taken turns for the better. All in all, he had learned a lot tonight, and tomorrow he would get to learn more about Kelly. He had to admit, he was glad his evening had taken the turn it had.


End file.
